


A Pitchfork of Awkwardness

by Bremol



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bremol/pseuds/Bremol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for kouw's challenge 2013. Richard goes to Isobel for some medical attention that's a bit on the delicate and embarrassing side. What happens when Elsie Hughes shows up for afternoon tea with Isobel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pitchfork of Awkwardness

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a challenge on tumblr. The challenge was: Person A must hide Person B from Person C. Awkwardness ensues. Any pairing. Must include holding hands at some point. This fluffy little thing is what I came up with.

 

 

 

 

Richard Clarkson grumbled all the way back to the village.  His arse hurt, though he wasn’t sure that his pride didn’t hurt worse.  “Damned chicken!” he scowled, groaning when he stumbled over a rock he’d missed seeing, jarring his aching backside.

He knew he had to get his wounds looked at, but having one of the nurses or other doctors at the hospital tend to them made him shudder.  He was their superior and it would be most embarrassing to have them see what a fool he’d been.

How many times had he been to a farm in all of his years as a country doctor?  How many times had he walked through a yard full of clucking, pecking chickens?  How many times had he walked passed a hay stack?  And always, always, he’d managed to be light on his feet, side-stepping the blame fool birds as they clucked and pecked about him.

Sighing, he turned his steps toward the only place he could go for help.  It would be a tad embarrassing to have Isobel tend to him, but at least she’d seen this part of his anatomy before.  As his lover, she’d seen every bit of him.  And the fact that she wasn’t one of his underlings helped immensely.

Knocking on her door, his smile was a bit of a grimace as she greeted him. 

“Richard?”  Isobel questioned when she noticed the paleness of his skin.  “What’s happened?” she asked as she helped him inside.

“I need your help, Isobel, but you must promise not to laugh.”

Isobel frowned.  “Why would I laugh if you’ve been hurt?”

Richard hissed as he pulled off his coat and turned his back to her.  “See the holes?”

Isobel’s eyes widened.  “I do, and I also see some blood.  Richard, out with it!” she commanded as she took his hand and gently tugged him into the dinning room where the light of the sun provided the brightness she needed to see what was going on.

Richard huffed, “I stumbled over a bloody chicken and landed on a damned pitchfork!”

Isobel bit her lip to stifle her laughter.  He’d been hurt, it really shouldn’t be funny, but the absurdity of it all was just too much.  A laugh escaped and she received a glare in return.  “Oh, stop now,” she tapped at his scowling mouth.  “It is funny, and you know it.”

Still pouting, Richard looked down at the woman he loved.  “I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.  I’m in pain.”

“Men,” she huffed.  “You’re all the same.  Great big babies when you’re sick or hurt.”

“Hey!”  Richard growled.  “What happened to being concerned because I’m bleeding?”

“Well, obviously you aren’t going to bleed to death.  While I set things out of your bag that I’ll need, you drop your trousers and undershorts and bend over this chair.”

“In the dinning room?”

“Richard, I need the bright light from the windows.  No one will see.  Now do as your told.”

Richard huffed at her bossiness, secretly a bit aroused by it, and did as he was told, hoping to keep her from noticing the affect her taking charge was having on him.

Isobel finished setting out the supplies then went to the kitchen to wash her hands.  Coming back into the room, she looked at Richard bent over the back of a chair, his hands resting on the table, and felt a thrill go through her then shook herself.  Gasping as she moved around him and caught sight of his battered backside, she felt badly for laughing earlier.  “Oh Richard,” she breathed as she saw the puncture marks and the bruises beginning to form.

“Bruising already?” he asked.

“Yes.  Now remember hold still because this is going to sting.”

Richard widened his stance a bit and braced himself, hissing when the sting Isobel warned about spread over him.  “How deep are the wounds?” he asked to keep his mind off the sensation.

“Thankfully not very.”  Isobel answered as she dropped the used gauze in the waste bin.  “You must have caught yourself.”

“I did, just not soon enough,” he complained.

Gently caressing him, Isobel leaned over to press a kiss to the bruised flesh, stopping when a knock sounded at the door.  Eyes widening, she stood up.  “Oh!  Elsie!”

“What?”  Richard asked in a panic.

“I forgot that Elsie was coming by for tea today.”

“Well Mrs. Hughes can’t find me like this!”

 

~*~

 

Elsie heard the noises from the inside, a voice she was sure she recognized as Dr. Clarkson, and then a door closing.  Raising her eyebrow, she wondered just what she’d interrupted then laughed.  This was going to be fun.

“Elsie.”  Isobel greeted when she finally came to the door.  “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“Did you forget?  If something has come up,” she paused to clear her throat on that one, a chuckle trying to escape at the look on Isobel’s face.  “I can come back another time.”

Isobel swallowed down the urge to giggle nervously.  “No, no.  It’s fine.”  Standing back, she let Elsie enter.  “I’m just running a bit behind today, and I suppose I did forget.”

“I really don’t mind coming back another time.”  Elsie told her friend, then tilted her head.  “Is something the matter?  Your face is flushed.”

Clearing her throat, Isobel put her hands behind her back to keep from wringing them.  “Oh no.  I’m quite alright.”

“If you say so.”  Elsie told her, then heard a groan from the other room.  “What was that?”

Isobel’s eyes widened and she frowned.  “What was what?” she asked, trying to pretend she hadn’t heard anything.

“I thought I heard a groan.”

“Oh, that.  Probably just the maid.  She’s rather put out with me.”

Elsie heard a noise again and looked at Isobel.  “That wasn’t a woman.”

Isobel gave a frustrated huff.  “I’ll go see what it is.  It may be Molesley.  He does go on so at times.”

“Would you like me to go make the tea?”  Elsie asked.

“No, no.”  Isobel told her hurriedly.  “I’ll take care of it.  You just sit and relax.”

Elsie watched Isobel hurry off toward the dining room and put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.  She knew she should feel awkward at what she had obviously interrupted, but she didn’t.  Isobel _was_ feeling awkward, and when she realized that Elsie had known all along that she had Dr. Clarkson hiding, she’d be very cross.  Or threaten to pay the housekeeper back. 

Hearing something, she paused to listen and nearly lost her battle with laughter.

“Richard Clarkson!”  Isobel hissed.  “She can hear you!  You have to be quiet!”

“I’m sorry.”  Richard hissed back.  “I had to move about.  My legs were going to sleep and my back was beginning to hurt.  I moved the wrong way.”

“Well be still!”

“Get rid of her, Isobel.  I can’t stand here with my trousers down around my ankles all afternoon.”

“I can’t be rude, Richard.  I did invite her for tea.  Just be quiet!”

Elsie bit her bottom lip to calm herself and settled back in the chair as if she hadn’t heard a thing.  “Is Mr. Moseley quite alright?”

Isobel frowned then remembered.  “Oh it wasn’t Moseley.  It was the gardener.  Seems he dropped something on his foot.”

Elsie could see Isobel’s face turning redder and thought maybe she should let the poor woman off the hook, but then changed her mind.  “Shall we go through to the kitchen for some tea?”

Isobel heard movement in the dining and turned her head to scowl in the direction of the door.  She was feeling extremely ill at ease in the presence of her friend and it was all Richard Bloody Clarkson’s fault for not being able to stay still and quiet.

“Tea, Isobel.”  Elsie reminded her friend, her eyes widening when she heard a crash and cursing in Gaelic.  “The gardener you say?”

Isobel turned stunned eyes to her friend, not sure what to say to that or how to explain.

“Since when is your gardener from Scotland?”  Elsie couldn’t hold the laughter in anymore.  “Go take care of Dr. Clarkson.  I’m going home.”

“Elsie, I, I,” Isobel tried to explain, but was much too embarrassed and annoyed.

“No need for explanations, dear friend.  Just,” Elsie began as she started out the door, pausing before she disappeared from Isobel’s view.  “Next time you invite me for tea, should something _come up_ call me and cancel.”

“Elsie Hughes!”  Isobel yelled after her friend, the woman’s laughter echoing through the house even after the front door had closed.  “Oh that woman!”

“Isobel!”  Richard called from the other room.  “Isobel!”

Isobel sighed and rushed into the dining room, shaking her head at the sight that greeted her.  “What were you doing?” she asked as she walked over to where Richard lay sprawled on the floor and knelt beside him. 

“I told you my back had started hurting.”  Richard scowled then made a face.  “Can you help me up?  This position isn’t very comfortable.”

Caressing his hair from his forehead, Isobel chuckled and shook her head.  “You wonderful man.  You do realize that Elsie Hughes knows about us now, don’t you?  She heard you cursing.  Couldn’t you have used English to curse in?”

Richard laughed then groaned as he stood up.  “I’m sorry, Love.”

“Just pull your trousers up.  I’m going to take you upstairs so you can lie on your stomach.  We’ll deal with Elsie Hughes later.”

Grimacing as he bent over, Richard pulled his clothes up then turned to Isobel and took her outstretched hand.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else taking care of you.  Those young nurses might get ideas if they saw what was under your trousers.”  Her eyes sparked.  “That happens to be mine and no one else’s.”

“Most definitely.”  Richard agreed as he bent to kiss her upturned lips.  “May I stay here tonight?”

“You know that you can.  There’s no one about but me.”  Gently helping him up the stairs, Isobel sighed, “You can help me think of what to do to get Elsie back for her cheek.”


End file.
